


Growing up Allison

by thatwriterchique



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Allison Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Allison Hargreeves-centric, Gen, Period-Typical Racism, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwriterchique/pseuds/thatwriterchique
Summary: Allison comes to terms with being Black.
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & The Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Growing up Allison

Allison is 4 and she’s crying because Pogo just told her she’s Black. When he asks her why she’s crying, she tries to explain that she doesn’t want to be ugly. Then she’s crying too hard to say anything at all, so Pogo sits with her on the top of the stairs until she calms down enough to go back to bed.

They never talk about it again.

  
*

  
Allison is 5 and even she knows Grace doesn't know how to do her hair. She always just kind of awkwardly brushes at the dry, fluffy coils until she can work it into a scrunchie. But it’s Mom and she’s trying, so Allison smiles big and kisses her on the cheek.

When she starts doing her own hair at 10, she tells Grace it’s because she wants to be more independent and pretends it doesn’t hurt when Grace starts spending more time with Diego.

(At least she’s learned the benefits of wetting her hair before combing it.)

  
*

  
Allison is 9 when she realizes that Luther thinks she’s pretty. Ben was the one to point it out, always so observant and quick to pick up on that sort of thing.

It’s the first time she’s ever felt pretty to anyone. She doesn’t look like the models on the magazines or on TV or in movies. She’s not thin, no one can run their fingers through her hair, and she’s not white. But now that Ben has pointed it out to her, she sees how Luther looks at her. Like he wants to hold her hand, maybe even kiss her. It’s sort of weird because they’re like siblings. It doesn’t mean Allison doesn’t like the attention, though.

Later, she doesn’t question that the only other time she seeks Luther’s company is when her divorce is almost finalized and she’s on the verge of losing custody of her little girl. She basks in feeling genuinely desired, even as she knows it won’t last.

(In another dimension, he spins her, dips her, then kisses her in a park filled with lights and it’s the prettiest she’s ever felt without having to manipulate the feeling and it still feels like the fantasy of a little Black girl who wants to be seen and not just heard.)

  
*

  
Allison is 13 and she’s pretty sure she’s gonna pee on herself from laughing, if Klaus doesn’t beat her to it. It’s Saturday and they're reading Cosmopolitan magazines smuggled in by Five, who’s sitting on the floor with his notebook ready to escape with the stolen goods in case dear old Dad shows up. Apparently, Martha Stewart is going to prison and Allison and Klaus are doing terrible impersonations of what they think that might be like. They’ve also been taking little sips of whatever Klaus keeps in his flask while Five scoffed occasionally as they got sillier and sillier. So, they don’t realize how loud they’re being until they hear footsteps thundering toward the door.

Five barely has time to jump with the magazines and Klaus' flask before Allison’s bedroom door flies open to reveal a deeply disgruntled Sir Reginald.

“What is the meaning of all this noise?”

They both stare blankly at him. Neither offers up an explanation since they know he won’t accept any. The sudden silence is jarring.

“Well, then. Since you can’t answer my question and you’re clearly doing nothing important with the time given to you, you are to get dressed and meet me in the parlor at 12:45. That gives you 15 minutes.” He doesn’t have to tell them not to be late.

Klaus slinks toward the door and doesn’t look back as he walks through it.

Before Sir Reginald follows, he looks back at Allison. “Do remember not to act your color, Number Three. This is a place of decorum. I expect you to remember that.” She barely notices the door closing as she sits on the bed, face warm with shame over something she can’t control.

Years later, she’ll hate herself for reciting those words verbatim every time she leaves her house. She’ll hate herself even more for knowing that she’d rather rumor her daughter into submission then be the Black mom yelling at her kid.

(She can’t afford to act her color or she’ll ruin the performance of a happy woman with a great life, the performance of a lifetime.)

  
*

  
Allison is 30 and she’s thinking, “Vanya gets to be a white girl who coasts through life being mediocre while the world looks at me to either be perfect or fail and it’s not fair and who the fuck does Vanya think she is trying to give me advice as if she knows anything about life or me or my life. Vanya should keep her opinions to herself.”

It’s not until she’s bleeding out on the carpet of a poorly decorated serial killer’s cabin that she thinks, “Maybe yelling at someone to do better doesn’t actually make them do better.”

  
*

  
Allison is 30 and it’s the first time she’s felt embraced by other Black people. The first time she’s ever felt ready to embrace other Black people. She’s crying and out of breath from being chased but she's being protected by a Black woman with a knife who’s clearly afraid but still ready to fight and protect a literal stranger just because she looks like her, like them. She’s crying and she’s stunned and she’s grateful and she’s miserable because she misses her little girl (who might be dead) and her siblings (who are definitely dead) and she can’t talk but she wouldn’t even if she could and she’s still crying only now she’s crying harder only with no sound and someone is shushing her and holding her and there’s hands on her back.

Then she’s getting her hair done and no one’s confused or making comments about it being unmanageable. They make her feel pretty and not because she rumored it or dreamed it up to cope with being abused.

She spends a year silent in the background of an actual revolution and then she's part of it. When she sits down at that lunch counter where she'd been humiliated before, it's the first time she's ever been proud to act her color.

  
*

  
Allison is crying in a cheap motel bathroom over the husband she left in 1963. Raymond’s face as he tried to reassure her while falling apart himself lingers in her mind, haunts her dreams.

But at least she’s no longer crying about being Black.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at umbrella academy fic. it's also my first fic attempt at all in...years. but i think it came out pretty well????
> 
> anyway, feel free to leave kudos or comment or whatever floats your boat🤷🏾♀️❤️️
> 
> tumblr @monathedefiantslytherin


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